


Tri-Alpha

by Boxstorm



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marvel Cameos, Mildly Dubious Consent, but everything works out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 14:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1553999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boxstorm/pseuds/Boxstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which The Avengers are the hottest fraternity on campus, and Phil definitely doesn't care. Until he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tri-Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> The mildly dubious consent warning is based on a scene in which Clint suggests that in order to become a full member of the fraternity, Phil must give him sexual favours. Clint immediately regrets this decision, and there is explicit consent offered about half way through, once all the pertinent information is on the table. 
> 
> One may also be mildly squicked by an earlier scene in which Clint tries to drunkenly kiss a seemingly uninterested Phil. This attempt is not successful, though it does make Phil fairly uncomfortable.
> 
> Hopefully that's everything that could potentially turn someone's stomach. If any of the above does not sound like your cup of tea a) sorry about that, and b) I'm sure there are many other lovely stories here that will be much more to your liking. Happy reading!

Tri-Alpha, colloquially known as The Avengers (drunkenly known as The A-Team) are, without a doubt, the hottest fraternity on campus. In every sense of the word.

Phil Coulson doesn’t care about that. All he cares about is the extensive alumni network which he plans to use to ensure that his career begins strong and only improves with age. If that means four years of dealing with fraternity brothers then so be it. Phil is playing the long game.

Which is why Phil is out well past when he would prefer to be asleep, dressed in tan slacks and a deep blue blazer, wandering around campus with two dozen men all at least a decade younger than him, trying to impress a bunch of drunk assholes.

Phil sighs as yet another pledge, obviously not taking this seriously judging by his level of intoxication, yells in Phil’s ear. Phil nods absently that sure, this is totally a blast man. This entire ordeal is almost over, and Tri-Alpha is the only fraternity left to visit.

The brothers of the house they’re currently in (Phil honestly can’t be bothered to remember which frat it is. For him, it’s Tri-Alpha or nothing), call for attention, and a brother who, to Phil’s surprise actually seems sober thanks them all for coming, and says that anyone selected for the fraternity will be contacted in the next week. The pledge group is shuffled unceremoniously out of the house and sent on their way.

Phil steels himself for what comes next, taking a deep breath as he follows the rest of his pledge group into what he hopes will be his home for the next four years. It being the end of the night, Phil had been expecting some level of debauchery. He is not prepared for this.

Just inside the door a tall, muscular blond man has a smaller, dark haired man pushed up against the wall, one hand up the smaller man’s shirt, faces mashed together in what can’t possibly be a comfortable kiss.

The smaller man opens his eyes, starting as he sees the group of pledges standing awkwardly in the foyer. He smacks the blonde on the arm and pulls back.

“Shit, Steve. New meat.” He says.

The blond, Steve apparently, turns, wiping his mouth obscenely as he takes in the group, a sinful flush creeping up his neck onto his face.

Steve leads them all into the main room, where a dozen or so brothers lounge about on a mishmash of furniture with a variety of alcoholic beverages in bright red plastic cups. One in particular catches Phil’s eyes, evidently on purpose if the positioning of his chair and the presence of several sorority sisters to either side of him is anything to go by.

The man isn’t what Phil would consider traditionally handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but he wears his looks with the kind of confidence that makes anyone attractive, and Phil has to admit that the roguish grin he’s wearing certainly helps with his overall air.

“’Sup pledge?” he says, voice low and smooth and just a little bit wrecked. “Welcome to Tri-Alpha.”

He pauses for a moment, and his grin seems to suggest that he thinks it’s for dramatic effect. Phil fights hard not to roll his eyes.

“I’m Clint Barton, chapter president.” The man continues, sweeping his eyes over the group in front of him, “As I’m sure you’ve all heard we’ve got a pretty strict rule about appearance here so, uh…” he points at two of the pledge in the group, “you two can just go home. We won’t be needing you.”

The two pledge Clint pointed out hesitate, as though uncertain about Clint’s sincerity.

“No, seriously. You can just fuck right off.” Clint says, waving a hand imperiously.

Phil is pretty sure he hears one of the two men mutter that Clint can just fuck right off, and he has to hide his laugh with a cough.

Clint waits for the two men to leave before continuing.

“Now that that’s taken care of, we’ve got three spots available this year, so do your best to impress us. Mingle, drink, and I’ll try to talk to each of you before you go.”

This seems to be Clint’s version of a dismissal, and the pledge group disperses to try to meet as many of the brothers as possible.

“Phil!”

Phil turns around at the call of his name and almost sags in relief. Here is the other reason Phil is putting himself through this hell. Nick Fury.

“Nick.” Phil says, nodding in greeting. “Your president is kind of an ass.”

Nick barks a laugh, “Clint? Nah. That’s just an act for the pledge. He’s really sweet once you get to know him.”

Phil carefully raises an eyebrow.

“I’m serious, man. Those two he kicked out? BKG called earlier, said they wanted both of them. That whole “appearances matter” shtick is total bull.”

Phil relaxes somewhat. While he would be pledging no matter what it’s nice to know that Nick at least doesn’t think the president is terrible.

“Anyway, let me introduce you to some of the brothers, get you a drink.”

Nick leads Phil around the house, introducing him to more men than Phil will ever remember, and several women who will be hard to forget. As it’s the last house of the night, and he wants to make a good impression, Phil even has a beer or two (or five) and by the end of the night Nick has to walk him home “to make sure he doesn’t get his ass killed”.

 

Phil is on his way back to his dorm from his last class of the day when it happens. He’s ambushed from behind and a bag is thrown over his head and cinched tight around his neck. He forces himself not to fight it, knowing that knocking out several of his new fraternity brothers won’t do him any favours. He feels two men grab one arm each, and another push into his back, leading him down the sidewalk.

The bag is whipped off of his head with a flourish and Phil finds himself standing in the Tri-Alpha common room, between two other equally disoriented men. Clint Barton stands in front of them, hands clasped loosely behind his back in a sloppy example of parade rest, and the officer in Phil yearns to correct his stance, but he holds back. He’s pretty sure lecturing the chapter president won’t do him any favours either.

“Jasper Sitwell!” Clint says, “Phillip Coulson, Antione Triplett.” He does his dramatic pause thing again and Phil has time to think that it’s just as stupid as it was the first time before Clint continues, “I would say welcome to Tri-Alpha, but you’re not out of the woods yet.”

“This week you will be given tasks to complete. Fail to complete these tasks and your offer of membership will be revoked. Succeed and you will become a full-fledged member of Tri-Alpha. You’ll be an Avenger, and I don’t have to tell you what an honour that is.”

“Now go get drunk!” Someone to Clint’s left yells.

“God dammit, Tony!” Clint groans, “I was trying to be professional!”

“Come on, just let the babies have some fun tonight. You can worry about professionalism in the morning.” Tony replies, flashing a shit-eating grin, “That is if you’re not too hungover.”

“Fuck you, man.” Clint says, but he’s also grinning, “Alright, fine. We’re set up in the backyard. Go nuts.”

Phil follows Jasper and Antoine to the backyard, and immediately regrets the decision. He’s hit with a wall of noise and colour and people, and he’s just thinking that he’ll tell Nick that he has a paper due and that he really has to go, but then Nick is right beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and steering him into the crowd.

Nick’s other arm is around a pretty brunette woman who Nick introduces as Maria, the chapter president of their affiliate sorority. Maria is a friendly, if severe woman, which looking around at the chaos Phil has found himself in the middle of, he’s pretty sure is a good thing. She apparently initiated her new pledges the night before, to give them a chance to meet their sisters before being thrown to the sharks, as she puts it. Phil feels that this is the most accurate description for what’s happening in this backyard, and can’t help but wish that Clint had thought of the same thing.

Maria leads him around, as Nick has fucked off to who knows where, and introduces him to people as they appear and disappear. By the end of the night Phil has met most of the women, who Maria is much more familiar with, and a good half of his new fraternity brothers. As the party winds down, he finds himself inside the common room, lounging around on a couple of sofas with Jasper and Antoine (call me Trip).

They quickly bond over their mutual feelings of mild terror, and just how overwhelming this entire thing is. Jasper is a mature student, like Phil, though without the military background, and they fall into an easy discussion about what it’s like to be so much older than the kids running around campus. Trip contributes on the side of “the kids”, calling Phil “gramps” the whole time and Phil finds that he actually doesn’t mind much. Three am takes him by surprise, and he’s about to call it a night when Clint staggers into the room, bottle of beer clutched just-too-tightly in one fist as he uses the other hand to stabilize himself against the wall.

“There’re my babies!” he says loudly, speech slurred with alcohol.

The three men look at each other cautiously, none quite sure what to do with a heavily intoxicated president.

Clint drops heavily down onto the couch next to Phil, pressing up against him seemingly without meaning to.

“Hi.” He says simply, smiling.

“Hello.” Phil replies, making a face at Jasper and Trip which he hopes conveys his sheer terror and need for help.

Apparently it does neither of those things as Jasper and Trip immediately excuse themselves, citing the late hour and early classes ( _it’s Friday you cowards_ ).

“Hi.” Clint says again, pressing further into Phil’s space.

Phil smiles awkwardly, trying to pull back, but being stopped by the arm of the couch against his back.

“You’re pretty.” Clint tells him, face serious.

“Thank you?” It’s more of a question than Phil had tried for, but this is a thoroughly confusing situation, and he’s really not sure if that’s the right response.

Apparently it isn’t, as Clint’s face falls.

“You don’t think I’m pretty?” he asks, batting his eyelashes awkwardly.

Phil has to laugh at that, the response “well not after that” coming unbidden to his tongue.

Clint’s pout deepens and he pulls away slightly.

“Hey, no.” Phil says, because while he’s happy to have his personal bubble back, he hadn’t meant to hurt Clint’s feelings, “I was just joking. You’re definitely pretty.”

Clint grins, surges forward, and… Phil can’t really call that a kiss. Clint misses his mouth entirely, sort of just slamming his mouth into Phil’s jaw. Phil can’t help his instinctual reaction, though, and he slams Clint away from him, sending him sprawling to the other side of the couch.

“I-uh.” Phil says awkwardly, frozen in his position pushed up against the arm of the couch, halfway between sitting and standing, “I have to go.” He finishes, pushing off and bolting.

He runs all the way back to his dorm.

 

“So I hear you body-slammed our fearless leader?” Nick asks when Phil picks up his phone.

“Hello to you, too, Nick.” Phil answers with a sigh.

“Yeah, whatever, hi.” Nick says impatiently, “So body-slamming. Not really conducive to you getting into the frat, man.”

“He tried to kiss me!” Phil all but yells, ducking his head sheepishly as the other occupants of the library turn to glare at him.

“Oh.” Nick says, “Shit man. Sorry.”

“No, I-“ Phil starts, “I mean, I didn’t mind it? Maybe? Only, he was really drunk so it seemed like a bad idea.”

“Trust you to get into a situation like this less than a month into the semester.” Nick says, sighing fondly.

“Care to help a guy out?” Phil asks, because Nick has known Clint far longer than Phil has, and he might have some idea how to deal with this situation.

Nick laughs at him.

“Fuck no, man!” he says, once he’s gotten himself under control, “That’s your mess to deal with. I’m just calling with your first pledge task.”

It turns out that someone at the party last night had gotten a hold of Phil’s wallet, taken his drivers’ licence, and hidden it in one of the books in the library. Nick explains that Phil will get hints every hour on the hour about which book his ID is in. If he finds his ID before midnight, he wins. If he doesn’t, he’s out.

Nick finds this hilarious. Phil does not. It helps a little that both Jasper and Trip show up to the library about twenty minutes later, looking just as pissed as Phil feels.

 

Over the course of the week, Phil, Jasper and Trip are forced to separate a bottle of sprinkles by colour, spend a day banned from turning right (and if Phil hadn’t felt like an ass searching through every damn book in the library, he certainly feels like one spinning in circles all day), and spend the entire week in constant fear that a brother will appear out of nowhere and zip-tie them to the nearest piece of furniture. Phil spends all of Wednesday stuck to a desk in his calculus classroom, and has to send a text to Trip, from behind his back, to come cut him loose. His embarrassment is compounded when Trip shows up with Jessica, one of the pledges for Maria’s sorority in tow.

Still, all three pledges manage to make it through the week successfully, and are called to the Tri-Alpha house on Friday night for their induction. Phil is ready for the bag thrown over his head this time, and casually follows whichever brother has him as they make their way to the house.

The bag is taken off of Phil’s head, and he’s surprised to find that he’s the only pledge in the room. Clint is seated in the same chair as the first time Phil had seen him, this time with a brother to either side of him. Clint dismisses the other men from the room, then stands to close the door behind them, turning to face Phil once that’s taken care of.

“What’s happening here?” Phil asks. He was under the impression that induction into the fraternity was done as a group (and involved a lot more alcohol than he sees in the room right now).

“I have one more task for you guys before your induction tonight.” Clint says, stepping into Phil’s personal space.

“Uh… What’s that?” Phil asks, stepping back.

Clint walks Phil back towards the wall, hands reaching out to grip at Phil’s hips.

“Are you drunk right now?” Phil asks, nervously, trying to decide whether or not to fight his way out of Clint’s grasp. It wouldn’t take all that much effort (Clint is stocky, with strong arms, but Phil can tell that he doesn’t have the training that Phil does, and Phil wouldn’t have much trouble overpowering him), but Phil finds that he wants to see where this is going.

Clint shakes his head, biting his lip.

Phil’s eyes flick down to Clint’s mouth, almost unbidden, settling there as Clint’s tongue pokes out to lick his lips nervously.

“You don’t have to…” Clint says quietly.

“Well…” Phil says, catching Clint’s eyes again, “If it’s a task…”

Phil lets Clint push him against the wall, lets him press his chapped lips tentatively to Phil’s in a dry, closed-mouth kiss.

“Is this…” Clint starts, biting his lip again, “Is this okay?”

Phil nods, surging forward to catch Clint’s lips in another kiss, tilting his head to deepen it when Clint presses his body up against Phil’s, holding him to the wall with an expanse of muscular chest.

Clint pulls away, breathing heavily and Phil feels himself smirk.

“Was that the task?” Phil asks.

“I had something a little more hands-on in mind, actually.” Clint says, slipping his thigh between Phil’s and rolling his body in a way which Phil is pretty sure shouldn’t be anatomically possible.

Phil moans, grabbing Clint by the back of the neck and pulling him back in, using his other hand to blindly attack the front of Clint’s jeans.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Phil groans, “Is this seriously a God Damn button fly?”

“Sorry.” Clint says distractedly, working on Phil’s belt with his own hands.

Clint gets Phil’s pants open, chuckles low as he takes over getting his own pants open as well.

Clint steps back, legs spread, and looks at Phil expectantly.

Phil raises an eyebrow, leaning casually back against the wall, as though his dick isn’t hanging out of his pants.

“It’s not going to jerk itself.” Clint finally says, breaking the stalemate.

Phil laughs, rolls his eyes, and pushes off the wall. Grabbing Clint’s hips, he tosses him backwards onto the couch. Phil sinks to the floor beside the couch, taking Clint’s cock in his hand and jerking it slowly. Clint’s hips jerk up off the couch, and Phil rests his forearm across Clint’s stomach, pressing him into the couch and holding him still.

“Fuck.” Clint hisses, “Get up here.”

Phil climbs on top of Clint, settling across his thighs and taking both their dicks in one hand, jerking them together.

“Yes, fuck!” Clint says, eyes clenched shut, “So good.”

“Better than the others?” Phil asks, slowing.

“What?” Clint asks, opening his eyes to look at Phil, “What others?”

“Well, this is a task, right?” Phil explains, “Am I better than Trip and Jasper?”

“Oh God, not what I want to picture right now.” Clint groans, “It’s just you, Phil. Fuck this is so wrong. Just… stop. Just get off.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Phil says, redoubling his efforts and throwing Clint a smug grin.

“No, dude. I can’t make you do this.” Clint says, trying to wiggle out from under Phil.

“You’re not making me do anything.” Phil says, leaning down to give Clint what he hopes is a somewhat placating kiss. “If I didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Are you sure?” Clint asks, placing a hand over Phil’s and forcing him to pause.

 “I was a Ranger for three years. If I didn’t want to be here, you would know.” Phil says, gently moving Clint’s hand and beginning to stroke again.

“Fuck that’s hot.” Clint says.

Their conversation devolves into quiet gasps and curses as Phil picks up the pace.

Clint comes a moment later with Phil’s name on his lips, Phil following after, smearing streaks of cum across Clint’s t-shirt.

“Shit.” Clint says, huffing a laugh as Phil pants against his neck.

“Shit.” Phil agrees.

 

 

The induction that night is much more in line with what Phil was expecting. It’s loud and drunk and crowded. About an hour into the party, Maria’s sorority girls show up and everything gets even louder and drunker. Phil stumbles back into the frat house to get away from the noise for a while. It takes him about fifteen minutes to find a quiet room to settle into, and he drops onto an armchair, checking his phone absently.

Phil is laughing at a drunken, incomprehensible text from Jasper (something about finding a girl and a bottle of sourpuss), when the door opens.

“Oh, sorry man.” Clint says, arm slung around the waist of a pretty redhead.

“Uh.” Phil says.

Clint’s eyes flick to the woman, then back to Phil. He hesitates for a moment, as though he wants to say something, then seems to think better of it. He smiles awkwardly at Phil, then shuts the door.

 

“I’m not avoiding the house.” Phil sighs into the phone, ‘I’m just really busy.”

“You know I’ve had this exact same conversation with, like, three of Maria’s girls, right?” Nick asks, and Phil can _hear_ him rolling his eyes.

“Seriously, Nick. My calculus class is just more demanding than I expected, and the house isn’t exactly the best place for studying.” Phil explains.

“Right.” Nick drawls, “You know that most of the house made it through first-year calc with flying colours, right?”

“Is that an offer for help?” Phil asks.

“God no. I didn’t say I took it.” Nick laughs, “But if you stop by later I’m sure we can find you someone.”

“Fine.” Phil says, not seeing any way out of it at this point, “I’ll be over after class.”

 

Phil has every intention of going straight back to his dorm room and maybe hiding forever, but Nick is waiting for him in the hallway.

“Come on, man.” Nick says, “I’ll try to find Stark for you.”

“Stark?” Phil asks, “As in Tony Stark?”

“Yeah. He’s basically a math genius.” Nick says with a shrug, “Thor would also work. Apparently the school system in… wherever Thor is from is way more advanced than what we’ve got here.”

Phil hums noncommittally.

“Really anyone but me or Barnes.” Nick says as he opens the door to the frat house, “I hate math and Barnes is just an idiot.”

“At least I’m pretty!” Bucky calls from the front room.

“Hey Bucky!” Nick calls back, “Is Steve with you?”

“Nah, he’s at the gym.” Bucky says, appearing and leaning against the door frame.

“I’m trying to find someone to tutor Phil here in calc.” Nick explains.

“Oh.” Bucky says, brow furrowing, “I think Clint is upstairs.” He offers.

“No!” Phil says, realizing too late that he’s replied too quickly and too loudly.

“I know he seems as dumb as the rest of us,” Bucky laughs, “but he’s actually secretly really smart. Got me through algebra anyway.”

“Is anyone else home?” Phil asks carefully.

“Well, I think Thor might be home…” Bucky answers.

“Sold.” Phil says, taking off to go find Thor.

Phil barely hears Bucky’s shout of “but he has Jane over!”, but Phil is pretty sure he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes to avoid Clint right now.

Five minutes (and one unbearably embarrassing interaction with a naked Thor) later, Phil is seated gingerly at the desk in Clint’s room, while Clint stands behind him, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the papers strewn across the desk.

“Did you hear any of that?” Clint asks, the tone of his voice suggesting that he’s asked several times now. Phil can feel the heat from Clint’s chest across his back, though, and he’s placing most of his concentration into not reacting in any way.

“No.” Phil finally admits, shoulders tense.

Clint sighs, and steps away to sit on the bed.

“What is your problem, man?” Clint asks, “Are you having, I dunno, a sexuality crisis or something?”

“What?” Phil asks, “Why would I- No. I’m not having a sexuality crisis. I’m having a _you_ crisis.”

Judging from Clint’s snort, that sounds just as stupid out loud as it had in Phil’s head but Phil can’t understand why this is suddenly _his_ fault when Clint is the one blatantly lying about his feelings and running around with sorority girls.

Phil says as much, and Clint’s ensuing laugh only serves to make Phil angrier.

“Who have you been talking to?” Clint asks.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone.” Phil says, “I saw you with that redhead. And I mean, I get it. She’s gorgeous and I’m just, you know, me. But you could have at least waited a _day_ before moving on.”

“Wait, are you talking about Tasha? And- what do you mean you’re just you?”

“I don’t know her _name_.” Phil says angrily.

“Okay, look.” Clint says, flopping backwards to lie diagonally on the bed, “I didn’t sleep with Tasha. I wouldn’t sleep with Tasha. Just, ugh, no. Pretty sure she’d eat me afterwards. She’s scary as fuck, man.”

“You didn’t?”

“Fuck no, man. Look, we’ve been friends forever. We grew up together. She was having a… personal problem and I was helping her out. That’s really all there is to it.”

“So why didn’t you just tell me?” Phil asks.

“Are you kidding? Did you miss the bit where I said she’s scary as fuck? No way am I going to tell someone she doesn’t know that she’s having a problem.” Clint says, “I want to talk about that ‘I’m just me’ bullshit, though.”

Phil shrugs helplessly, feeling like a fool for misunderstanding the situation so thoroughly.

“I meant what I said, you know.” Clint says, propping himself up on his elbows, “It is just you.”

Phil doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but part of the reason I chose you to pledge is because you’re hot as hell.”

“I thought that appearance thing was an act.” Phil says.

“It is.” Clint answers, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be swayed by a handsome face. I’m only human.”

Phil doesn’t know what to say to that either. So naturally, he blurts out the first thing to cross his mind.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” Phil asks.

“God yes.” Clint answers, face lighting up in  a grin, “Bu we should probably get this calculus figured out first.”

“Fuck that.” Phil says, surging forward and grabbing Clint’s hand, tugging him off the bed, “Coffee now. Then probably sex. Then calculus.”

Clint laughs, but lets himself be dragged from the room.

 

The sex is fantastic. The calculus homework is ignored completely.


End file.
